


Punch Drunk

by Marzi



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Averted Love Confessions, M/M, Pining, Supernatural inebriation, ineffable husbands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-23
Updated: 2019-07-23
Packaged: 2020-07-11 20:45:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19934227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marzi/pseuds/Marzi
Summary: It wasn't that Crowley was opposed to watching the angel on a love roll, it was just that he didn't have any ecstasy around to join him, making him the frustratingly sober chaperone for this little trip. Not to mention the time constraints. There was an impending apocalypse after all.





	Punch Drunk

**Author's Note:**

> This started with 'wouldn't it be funny if being around too much love was like taking ecstasy for Aziraphale' then took a sharp left turn along the way and turned into this.

It wasn't until after they dropped off the bicyclist that Crowley noticed anything odd. He had been stewing in his own dissatisfaction and a few haphazard plans for what to do going forward. With his silence, he had figured Aziraphale was doing the same. The young woman might have been a bit of a distraction, but their day was still a bust. At least Crowley saw it that way, while Aziraphale was humming. Actually humming, and tapping his fingers on his knee in an odd sort of counter rhythm that didn't quite match the beat of the melody.

Crowley pushed down on the accelerator of the bentley, and despite the gas gauge's staunch position on empty, the car gladly sped up. He had expected Aziraphale to stop his incessant humming and tapping, clutch at the door and tell him to slow down. He had not expected him to smile. Crowley slammed on the brakes. Neither jolted in their seat, having a very precarious relationship with physics.

"Alright, what is it. What's wrong?"

"Hm?"

"What's gotten you all-" He waved his hand in a vague manner that still suitably encompassed all of the man shaped person in his passenger seat.

"Oh I just-" and he was smiling now, bright and unfettered. "I just think that-oh!" Something caught his attention and he was out the door like a shot.

Crowley was suddenly glad he had bothered to stop, fairly certain Aziraphale would have jumped out even if he had been going ninety. Grumbling, he exited the car at a much more reasonable pace to follow the angel.

What had caught Aziraphale's attention was a hill. Really just the vague impression of an undulation in the earth, but it was apparently perfect for his plans. Which were to run to the top, and laughing all the way, roll down its side. While the word 'cavorting' might have been thrown about a bit in their millennia of acquaintance, it had never been quite so literal. Once Aziraphale reached the bottom, he sprang to his feet and ran back up.

"I think there might be a pond nearby! Do you fancy a swim?"

Crowley stood next to the bentley and just stared.

"Oh, oh there, that tree is perfect for climbing. Do you think I could get to the top?"

Crowley pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Oh the stars, I haven't seen them this clearly in ages. Well not an actual age, but the colloquialism."

_Can't you feel it_? Aziraphale had said earlier. _Love_. This was just fantastic. It wasn't that Crowley was opposed to watching the angel on a love roll, it was just that he didn't have any ecstasy around to join him, making him the frustratingly sober chaperone for this little trip. Not to mention the time constraints. There was an impending apocalypse after all.

"Yes it's all very lovely. Now get back in the car."

But Aziraphale was rolling down the generously named hill again. At least he had enough sense left in him to miracle the grass from staining his coat on his own, rather than leaving it to Crowley to have to deal with in the aftermath of this escapade. Of course he was still currently stuck in the middle of this unplanned detour, the blessed _afterwards_ currently eluding him.

"Angel, come on." He opened the passenger door and waved his arm. The farther they got from Tadfield the better things would be.

Aziraphale, likely swayed by the fact it _had_ been a literal age since he had climbed anything let alone a tree, as well as his lack of swimming costume, did take a few cautious steps back towards the car.

"Can't you just feel-"

"No." Crowley snapped, much harsher than he intended. He didn't feel love. He wasn't an angel. He was a very irritated demon who was thinking about tracking whatever person in this ridiculous village it was that liked this blasted place so much it was taking Aziraphale for a giddy spin.

The harshness didn't seem to bother the angel, though a suddenly resoluteness came over his face. It was the sort of look Crowley didn't like seeing, as it was generally followed up by a very sincere thank you for whatever good deed he was going to be forced to relive. He couldn't think of any he had done recently (the near misses with the guns at the former convent certainly didn't count) that would be relevant to bring up now.

Aziraphale got a little bit closer. "You love the bentley."

Crowley sighed and his fingers flexed on the open car door. It wasn't that his thoughts were being read, it was just that the angel was picking up on anything vaguely positive and exaggerating it. "Just get in." If he stayed still long enough, Aziraphale might scoot close enough for him to be able to just grab him and toss him into the passenger seat.

Unaware of the eminent danger of manhandling, Aziraphale stepped up to Crowley's side. He smiled, reaching out with his hand towards the demon. "You love-"

Crowley snatched his hand before it could touch the side of his face. All thoughts of tossing fled, and the small part of his fingers touching skin seemed to burn. "It's a long ride back to London, angel. Get in the car." His words did not come out nearly as harsh as he needed them to.

Aziraphale had, blessedly, stopped talking, but he had also not taken his hand back (Crowley had not let go of it either). He also kept staring at him. His corporation was trying to act human in the dark, pupils blown wide in order to drink in the light. They were still unfathomably blue, Crowley could tell even through his sunglasses. Black and blue like bruises. A harsh ache settled across Crowley's skin at the thought. Of love battering against the angel until he was tender from it, blood vessels burst just below the surface. Of caring so damn much, even when it hurt to. Of being so sensitive to it all it drove him silly. Aziraphale loved so fucking much already, wasn't really right for him to suffer the slings of someone else's affections. Fuck whoever loved this place so much, and perhaps also damn someone who was a little closer to the car and projecting their own quiet feelings.

Eyes being the window to the soul was complete bollocks in Crowley's opinion. They were the first part to reach out, to find, to hold whatever- or whoever- was to be loved. They were the first thing to hurt and to hide.

Crowley let go of Aziraphale to push his sunglasses farther up his nose, the edges digging sharp into his skin. "Armageddon is on, have you forgotten?"

Aziraphale looked away, and Crowley could no longer see his eyes, black and blue and broken just below the surface. "Yes. Quite." The dazed, bubbly joy he had been exhibiting was gone from his tone.

He managed to move past Crowley and get into the car without touching him, a minor miracle. Crowley didn't slam the door after him, though he very nearly did.

The rest of the drive back to London was done in silence.


End file.
